


here in the ashes

by cosmicbees



Series: our house is burning [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Multi, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - M/M/M, yeah boi buckle in, you gotta squint hard but i promise there are feelings somewhere in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15950837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicbees/pseuds/cosmicbees
Summary: keith and shiro welcome james home“Why are you sorry?” Keith takes James’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, and tilts his face down until their eyes meet, “for trying to be good person? You’re sorry for trying to take care of other people?”James gives a little halfhearted shrug, and Keith throws the towel over the bedpost before clambering up beside him in bed. It’s quiet in the room, but the window beside the bed is open, letting in a cool early-autumn breeze, and the distant chirp of crickets. Keith tugs James down to lay beside him, their foreheads pressed together and noses brushing while Keith’s hand moves through his hair.“When was the last time you let someone else take care of you, James?” Keith trails a hand down, down, down until it’s resting low on James’s stomach.“its been a while.”





	here in the ashes

**Author's Note:**

> this is a sequel to ['our house is burning'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15665295) which was not supposed to have a sequel originally, and is in no way required reading in order to understand this fic. 
> 
> title, once again, from LSD's song ['Thunderclouds'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDjTJ6lkb-8)
> 
> !!! there are some uhhhh sexual acts that are mentioned/performed in this fic that could be a bit intense for some folks !!! they are mostly brief, but if you are concerned, please check the end notes for a list of basically everything that happens here !!!

Keith’s hands are soft. 

James comes to this realization quickly, as Keith brushes calloused fingertips across his face or settles his palms on the edge of his hips. They’re rough, worn and weathered, but Keith’s touch is unnervingly soft against the most sensitive skin on his body. This says nothing, of course, of Keith’s mouth: equally as soft with quiet words murmured against James’s ear or the flat of a velvet smooth tongue dragged across his throat that sets him on edge every time. 

But  _ Christ _ , as gentles as Keith can be, as gentle as he  _ is _ , there are still smatterings of bruises across James’s collarbones, his hips, sometimes even his heart. Imprinted into his flesh by hungry hands and mouths, they are tiny constellations of purple-blue and faded yellows hidden across his body. 

Keith’s body is riddled with marks of its own, given to him by Shiro, mostly. Shiro whose hand constantly rests on the small of Keith’s back, or on his shoulder, to guide him with a gentle touch. James finds places to leave his own fingerprints alongside Shiro’s, only to find out that Shiro doesn’t mind.  Shiro pays them back in kind, and the pieces of James’s body that belong to Keith belong to Shiro now, too. Places where his fingers dig into James’s skin leave little marks that mirror Keith’s, as they all take turns taking each other apart with mouths, tongues, teeth, and hands that move with intention, and almost frightening precision. 

His body aches with it. 

They share quiet nights curled into a sofa, heads resting on shoulders and fingers wound up in one another’s hands, a movie playing quietly in the background. Meals where James would sit alone in the mess hall are now shared between the three of them at a quiet corner table, laughter muffled into hands, and knees brushing in the close quarters. The warm press of Shiros thigh against his own as they sit side by side becomes nearly so familiar as Keith’s does. 

James’s heart learns to ache nearly so much as his body does. 

It’s only fair, he supposes. 

 

*****

 

James isn’t proud when he knocks on the door of Shiro and Keith’s shared room late into the evening hours, and is even less so when he considers leaving just moments after his knuckles make contact with the cold steel. Something about the echo of it in the hallway settles a cold chill at the back of his skull. 

He’s never shown up to their room uninvited before, but right now he needs something, someone, anyone. James is strung out on lack of sleep, exhausted from the mission he has spent the last week on, and the anxiety that courses through him grows stronger, more focused as the seconds stretch on, leaving him disoriented. 

The door finally slides open with a gust of air, and Keith stands in the doorway, head cocked, “James?” 

“Hey,” James sighs, “I’m sorry it’s so late.” 

“It’s okay,” Keith reaches out for James’s shoulder and pulls him into the room, “are you okay? You look like shit.” 

“Thanks.” 

Keith’s hand runs from the swell of his shoulder, and up to cradle the side of his head. He turns James’s face towards his own,  “You didn’t answer my question.” 

“I’m okay,” James murmurs, but the words are shaky as they fall from his lips. 

Keith levels him with a critical look and murmurs, “but you’re not.” Its simple, but James’s facade crumbles entirely. He steps forward and collapses into Keith’s arms, tucking his face into the crook of Keith’s neck to let out a shuddering sob, “what happened, babe?” 

James tries to steady his breathing, and doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, his voice is hoarse, “We got a firsthand look at what the Galra are doing,” he chokes a bit, and buries his face deeper into Keith’s neck, “It’s so much worse than we’d thought. It’s everything we knew about and so much more.” 

“Hey,” Keith murmurs, “you’re okay. We’re safe here.” 

James hiccups through his tears, “but so many people aren’t, Keith. You’ve seen what they’ve done to the entire universe, and now they’re doing that here, and I can’t let that happen.” 

“We’re not going to,” Keith tugs at the back of James’s collar, pulling him just far enough away to look into his eyes, “we aren’t going to let the Galra do that to earth.” 

“It’s already happening! I spent a week and a half doing reconnaissance on one of their camps, and it’s already fucking happening,” James’s voice is edged with panic, and he grips on tight to Keith’s arms. Keith sighs, murmurs an acknowledgment and pulls James back in close to his body. 

“I know, but there’s nothing you and I can do right now,” Keith has one hand pressed to James’s lower back, while the other rakes through his hair. James takes deep, steadying breaths against Keith’s neck, clean and warm, until the pounding of his heart lessens, slowing into something just above normal, and Keith nods towards a closed door, “now let’s get you cleaned up.” 

James follows Keith to the apartment’s little bathroom on heavy feet, trudging a step behind him with his eyes fixed to the floor. The light flickers a bit overhead before fully illuminating, casting a hazy golden glow across the white tile that sprawls across the floor and walls. He stands in the doorway, stiff-shouldered and motionless while Keith fidgets with the faucet of the bathtub, hand shoved under the spigot to test the warmth of the water flow. It takes Keith a moment to settle on the temperature he wants, and in that short time James realizes that he feels out of place here. 

James has shared a lot with Shiro and Keith in the last several months, has shared their bed and their bodies, but this is new. Keith pulling him into the tiny bathroom, barely big enough for one person let alone the two of them feels intimate in a way that he hasn’t had to face yet.

A quick fuck is one thing. To draw a bath for him is another.

When Keith closes the door behind them, James has his back to him, facing the bathroom vanity instead. His reflection stares him down from the mirror, already half-foggy from the running water. “Where’s Shiro?”

“He’ll be home soon,” Keith replies, and leans forward to hook his chin over James’s shoulder. Their eyes lock in the mirror, and Keith turns his head to kiss a spot just behind James’s ear before stepping back. His hands brush along the nape of James’s neck when he reaches for the zipper of his flightsuit, and James shudders against the cold as Keith pushes the garment down, off his shoulders. 

“You’re tense.” Keith mutters, leaning in to press his lips to the dip between James’s shoulder blades. 

James sighs, hand twitching against the edge of the sink, “war will do that to a person.”

He only earns a hum from Keith in response, but his fingers still work to pull the fitted suit from James. Limb by limb, inch by inch, James’s body is exposed to the warm yellow light. Keith turns James so that they are face to face, and crowds in on him until the back of his thighs hit the edge of the vanity countertop.

“Stop that,” Keith says, reaching up to wipe at the tear tracks on James’s cheeks with a rough thumb, “come on, James.” 

There’s silence between them, only for a moment, before James speaks, “I’m just scared.” 

The bath is still running, loud as it echoes off the tile, and James fiddles with the hem of Keith’s shirt. Keith grabs at James’s hand and squeezes once, an acknowledgement, before releasing it, and tugging his shirt off over his head.

“Get in,” he says, nudging James towards the tub. 

James obliges him, carefully stepping in and settling himself into the water there before leaning forward to turn the tap off. Without a word, Keith slips from the bathroom, only to return a moment later with a towel thrown over his arm and an empty plastic cup in hand. James watches Keith as he undresses slowly, clothing discarded in a pile behind the door. He is long lines of muscle and scars, and the bruises on his body stand out in vivid hues against pale skin.

James wishes he could stop the way his breath catches in his throat at the sight. 

He taps James on the shoulder, ushering him forward, and settles into the bathtub behind him. Keith’s skin is slick against his own, somehow cool despite the scalding heat of the water as he wraps an arm around James’s stomach, pulling him in close until their bodies are pressed together, “come here.” 

Something in James’s chest fights to claw its way out at that, and he fights the urge to curl in on himself, to bury his face in his hands, to cry again. Keith’s nose is pressed into the junction of his neck and shoulder, and his hands trail lazy paths up and down his chest--it is entirely too much for James to handle right now. His heart hammers loudly behind his sternum. 

“Calm down,” Keith breathes, “what’s gotten into you tonight?” 

“This is a lot,” James replies through grit teeth. 

“Its a bath.”

James doesn’t respond, and closes his eyes instead, leaning his head back to rest on Keith’s shoulder.

“Let me wash your hair,” Keith murmurs, shifting a hand up to push the hair from in front of James’s face, and tilts his head back with a wet touch. He presses his lips to the side of James’s neck, says something unintelligible against his pulse. James nods numbly, an acknowledgement to something he isn’t sure he heard, and Keith fumbles alongside the tub for a moment before procuring the plastic tumbler from earlier, setting to work on James’s hair.

James feels small under Keith’s touch. Despite how cramped the two of them are, pressed tight against one another in the bathtub. Despite he and Keith being nearly identical in size. Despite everything. He feels like a child again, coddled and taken care of in a way he hasn’t been in years. 

It’s unfamiliar, but its the feeling of being warm and safe for the first time in a long time. 

Keith’s fingers are gentle against his scalp, methodical as they work the shampoo into a lather, and James lets the tension seep from his body, melting away with the soap when Keith tilts his head back to rinse his hair. The bath has started to grow cold, but Keith’s hands are hot against his skin as they trail down his neck, chest, coming to a rest on his hips, chasing any hint of a chill from his body and leaving him warm and pliant under his touch.

James maneuvers himself around so that he is facing Keith, kneeling between his legs, still half covered by the water. A little smirk twitches at the corner of Keith’s mouth before James is leaning in to press their lips together, and Keith welcomes him in eagerly, lips parting to grant him access as James licks into his mouth, deep and thorough. 

“Come to bed with me,” Keith says against James’s mouth, squeezing tight where his fingers are pressed to his hips, “spend the night here.” 

“Yeah,” the words escape James in a rasp as Keith scrapes his teeth along the column of his throat, “okay.” 

 

*****

 

Keith bundles James out of the bath long after the water has gone cold, and pats him dry with a soft, plush towel while he sits on the edge of the bed, chasing the caress of his hands with the touch of his lips.

“You remind me of Shiro sometimes,” Keith sighs, the pad of his thumb grazing along the ridge of James’s collarbone, “you give so much and take so little, and it wrings you out, over and over til there’s nothing left.” 

“I’m sorry,” James has his gaze fixed to a point above Keith’s head, and his words come out a bit empty. 

“Why are you sorry?” Keith takes James’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, and tilts his face down until their eyes meet, “for trying to be good person? You’re sorry for trying to take care of other people?”

James gives a little halfhearted shrug, and Keith throws the towel over the bedpost before clambering up beside him in bed. It’s quiet in the room, but the window beside the bed is open, letting in a cool early-autumn breeze, and the distant chirp of crickets. Keith tugs James down to lay beside him, their foreheads pressed together and noses brushing while Keith’s hand moves through his hair. 

“When was the last time you let someone else take care of  _ you _ , James?” 

Keith trails a hand down, down, down until it’s resting low on James’s stomach, “its been a while,” James says, voice rough. 

“Let me,” Keith says, fingers drifting just far enough to pull a sharp intake of breath from James when he wraps a hand around his length. He gives one long, slow stroke stroke, and the friction of dry skin sets James’s nerves on fire.  

“I--” James doesn’t have time to stutter out a response before Keith’s hand is moving again, just enough to pull another reaction from James who bites off his words with another gasp.

“I’ll make it good for you,” Keith purrs, pressing his lips to the hollow of James’s throat, “I know what you like. I can take good care of you, babe.” 

James fights the urge to let out a whine at that. At the way the endearment lights a spark of electricity low in his gut, and he’s already hard under Keith’s touch when he says “please.” 

Keith hums in satisfaction, and urges James over until he’s laid out on his stomach, arms thrown up over his head. Keith has one hand pressed into the small of his back when he leans in close to James’s ear to ask, “is this okay?” James nods as best he can with his face pressed into the pillow, and Keith places a kiss to the back of his neck, “tell me what you want.” 

“I want you to, ah,” Keith has leaned back to settle himself between James’s legs, and James shudders at the first touch of Keith’s hand against his ass, the words on his tongue forgotten. 

“I can make you cry, baby,” Keith says, voice lilting with the edge of something almost mocking, “I can make you scream. I can open you up until you forget everything but me and how I feel inside you. Tell me what you want.” 

James opens his mouth to respond, and instead huffs out a breath when Keith’s fingers trace a long line up the inside of his thighs. “all of it,” he grits out, “give me anything, everything, I don’t care.” 

“Anything?” Keith laughs. The words are low and lascivious and James knows that, were he standing, his knees would buckle at the tone. 

“Anything,” James confirms weakly, “Jesus Christ, Keith just touch me please.” 

Keith slaps at his ass, just firm enough to sting for a moment, and James whimpers with it, hitching a leg up on the bed, leaving himself exposed to Keith’s gaze. Keith settles back onto his haunches from where he’s been kneeling between James’s thighs, and breathes a little satisfied, “oh.”

“Please,” James buries his face into the pillow and pushes his body back towards Keith again.  

“You’re impatient,” Keith chides, but obliges him nonetheless, hard enough to leave a mark in the shape of his hand this time; five fingers and a palm limned in brilliant red at the junction of his ass and thigh, “but you won’t tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” James spits out, propping himself up on his elbows and looking back at Keith over his shoulder. His face is flushed and his hair is disheveled from where it’s been pressed against the pillow--he’s a mess, but his words are defiant, almost a sneer, “I want you to make me forget my name and turn me inside out. Come  _ on _ , take  _ care of me. _ ” 

Keith just cocks his head to the side, and his hand cracks down again, another mark alongside the first the draws a bitten-off, inhuman sound from James, “well since you asked so politely.”

Keith stretches himself out across the bed, and spends a moment rummaging through the bedside table before reemerging with a bottle in hand, and a glint in his eyes. James watches him silently, still resting on his elbows and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth while Keith pushes his legs further apart to drag his fingers up his thighs. 

James listens for the familiar  _ click _ of the bottle cap, waiting for Keith’s touch and muttering something spiteful under his breath that Keith can’t quite hear. The first brush of Keith’s finger across him sends a jolt skittering up from the base of his spine, and is swiftly followed by another smack across his ass, pulling a plea from James. 

Keith makes quick work of James, stretching him open with deft precision until the sounds that fall from his mouth are weak, watery, nonsense, and he’s rutting back, pushing himself against Keith’s hands desperately. Keith alternates words of praise with little swats, and James is wet with too much lube under him, body alight with need and sticky-hot to the touch when Keith adds a third finger. 

Neither of them notice the dull creaking of a closing door, or the thud of boots across the carpeted floor until someone is clearing their throat from behind them. 

“When you messaged me to say James came over, this isn’t what I had in mind,” Shiro’s arms are crossed across his chest, but there’s humor laced in his voice, “having fun?”

“Yeah,” Keith grins over his shoulder, pressing deeper into James, who lets out a muffled cry from where his face is buried into a pile of pillows, hands scrambling for purchase against the sheets. “Want to join?”

“Maybe,” Shiro says, reaching up to unbutton his uniform while he toes off his boots, “What do you think James?”  

James pushes himself back up on to his forearms, and hums, head hung low. Shiro chuckles and shrugs his jacket off as he approaches, pulling his undershirt up and over his head before tossing them somewhere near the foot of the bed. 

“James?” Shiro murmurs, reaching out to guide his face up until he’s looking at Shiro with wide, sightless eyes, pupils blown wide, “hey, you with me?” 

“Y-yeah,” James stutters, and Keith places another satisfied smack across his ass, “I--ah  _ fuck _ .”

Shiro leans in to press a kiss to James’s temple, “mind if I join you?”

James tilts his chin up--a confirmation and a question all the same, and with a quiet chuckle Shiro climbs into the bed, back pressed against the headboard, and kisses him, prying his mouth open easily with a thumb pressed against the hinge of his jaw. 

“Can’t believe you,” Shiro whispers, shaking his head and pulling away from the kiss, smirking at the low whine that escapes James, “I leave Keith alone for a few hours and I come home to you spread out on my bed, open and ready and  _ fucking yourself  _ on his fingers. I can’t believe you James.” 

“I wouldn’t have to--ah, do it myself i-if,” he gasps and his head dips low again, dropping from Shiro’s grip as Keith twists his fingers inside of him, “oh my  _ god _ , if he would just fu-fuck me already.” 

“Don’t be so demanding,” Shiro scolds, feathering two fingers of his mechanical hand over James’s bottom lip. When James opens his mouth to reply, Shiro plunges them deep into the wet warmth there until James is nearly gagging on them, response cut short, “ah, there we go.” 

James swallows around the intrusion, a drawn out moan muffled against the cold metal in between his teeth. Shiro savors every hitch of breath and the needy little sounds that overflow against his knuckles, and uses the other hand to push sweat-sticky bangs back from James’s forehead, whispering words of encouragement. 

“Jesus Christ, James, you look so good like this. So beautiful,” he mutters against the other man’s forehead, vaguely registering a line of spit dripping from James’s lips and down his wrist, “fucked out and wet and gagging for it. All this and Keith only has his fingers in you.” 

James cuts out a stifled, “please,” at the tail end of a sob and Shiro draws back just enough to see the wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes. 

“Don’t cry, babe,” Shiro coos, and swipes at the tears before they can fall, “you’re so fucking good for us. You look so good with my hand in your mouth, just imagine how pretty you’d look with your lips around my cock.” 

James can’t see straight, can’t think straight, can’t hardly breathe, as overwhelmed as he is, so he just swallows Shiro’s fingers down further until he’s nearly choking on them, heavy and sure in his mouth. Keith says something that he can’t hear over the pounding of his heart, and when Shiro pulls his hand from James’s mouth he mourns the sudden loss of pressure with a sharp whine. 

“James,” It’s Keith speaking for the first time in a while as he withdraws his touch with a last little twist of his hand. “You still okay?”

He nods absentmindedly and keeps his eyes closed tight as he shifts back, chasing the sensation of Keith’s fingers in him.

Keith smooths a hand down the plane of James’s back, soothing the heat of his skin with a steady touch, before leaning over him to press a kiss into the small of his back. 

“Keith,” James chokes on the words, voice hoarse, “please.” 

Shiro leans back against the headboard, putting a few precious inches of distance between him and James, “Please, what?” 

“Fuck me.” 

Keith smirks at Shiro from the opposite side of the bed, but his words are soft as he strokes along the curve of James’s ass, “how do you want it, babe?” 

“Fast, slow, I don’t-- _ fuck _ ,” James lets out a yelp when Keith swats at him, the feeling is almost too much against the over-sensitive skin, already mottled in shades of rosy crimson.

“Come on, tell me,” Keith goads him on, and the familiar crinkle of foil has James looking over his shoulder to Keith. 

“No!” he snaps, a bit too firm, and Keith arches a brow at him, holding the half-unwrapped condom up questioningly. James redirects his gaze back towards Shiro, and his voice drops low, needful in the heady silence, “just wanna feel you inside me.” 

“Yeah,” Keith breathes, and Shiro casts his eyes towards the ceiling, scrubbing a hand across his face, “what else?” 

“Make it good,” James is begging now, leaning back towards Keith when he hears the  _ snap _ of a bottle cap behind him, “you said you’d take care of me.” 

“And I will, babe.” 

With that, Keith is pressing against him, sinking inside with a slow, steady movement that leaves James speechless, hands fisted in the bedsheets. 

The dull burn as James adjusts to the stretch drops his jaw open in a breathy sigh, eyes fluttering closed as Keith settles himself, “like that, yeah,” he mumbles. 

Keith gives him a moment to adjust before he begins to move. His thrusts are shallow, unhurried at first, and his hands are gentle on James’s hips, guiding his movements until weak, desperate sounds spill from James.

“More,” he whimpers, “give me-- _ ah _ , give me more.” 

Keith halts his movements, and leans forward to tangle his fingers in James’s bangs, tugging him upright until he’s seated in Keith’s lap, his back pressed to Keith’s chest, slick with  sweat. He keeps the one hand fisted in James’s hair, pulling hard enough for the pleasure to be just this side of painful, and positions the other down between James’s legs, where he trails a lazy palm up and down his length. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Keith asks, timing his thrusts to match the movement of his hand, and James nods blindly. 

“So good, James,” Shiro speaks up from his watch at the headboard, and moves to unbutton his pants, pushing the fabric down to palm at himself, “letting Keith take you apart like this, you look so fucking good.” 

A satisfied little moan punches it’s way out of James at that, and Keith drags his hand up James’s stomach, brushing rough fingertips over his nipples until he’s murmuring something incoherent, helpless under Keith’s touch. 

“You like putting on a show, don’t you, babe?” Keith’s hand slithers it’s way up, up, until he clamps down around James’s neck, fingers pressed just center left of his jugular. Keith’s lips move against the shell of James’s ear, sending a little chill shooting down his spine when he says, “you like it when Shiro watches you get fucked? Wanna look good for him? Want him to--ah--want you as much as I do, yeah?” 

James rolls his hips to meet Keith’s thrusts as best he can, but his rhythm is off, faltering even as he nods his confirmation. The words cut too close to his heart, to the quiet ache that’s been building inside of him over the last few months, and when he speaks, it spills out in a rush, words slurring together, “I want you to-- _ fuck _ , to love me as much as you love each other.” 

Keith stutters to a stop, hands frozen on James’s body, “oh.” He loosens his grip on James’s hair, and draws a feather-soft touch down the side of his face. 

“James,” Shiro speaks gently, and pushes himself up to crawl closer to James. He sprawls a hand across James’s chest, pausing to feel the beating of his heart under his palm, “of course we do.”

James opens his mouth to respond, but can’t seem to form a response, the words lost somewhere at the tail end of a moan when Keith resumes his movement. He cracks his eyes open, to find Shiro looking at him, equal parts confused and reverent. 

“God,” he says, pressing a kiss to James’s forehead, “you wouldn’t be here if we didn’t love you.” 

“Why wouldn’t we?” Keith murmurs, “James, you’re incredible.” 

James nods haltingly, trying to blink away the tears he can feel welling up along the bottom of his eyes,  “you’re sure?” 

“Of--of course I’m sure,” Keith’s fingers twitch where they’re still clasped on James’s throat, and the pressure, along with the slow drag of Keith moving inside of him is enough to make him dizzy. He tilts his head back, looking up at the ceiling through the hot tears he knows are rolling down his face now, overwhelmed by touch and burn and the words spoken against his ear. 

“Babe, no,” Shiro presses his lips to the corner of his eye, before moving down the tear tracks on his face, hands tracing down the lines of James’s chest, “can I touch you?” 

James captures Shiro’s mouth with his own in answer, and Shiro surges forward to take him in hand. A pleading whine resonates in his chest, and he’s leaking against Shiro’s fist, wet and desperate, trying to find a balance between Keith, pressing deep inside of him and Shiro’s metal fingers digging bruises into his hip as he guides his movements. 

Shiro moves so that his hand is wrapped around the both of them, and the kiss devolves quickly into something graceless, sloppy-wet and hungry. James pants into Shiro’s open mouth, and the weak sounds that he makes turn into a debauched mantra of “ _ please _ , _ please _ , _ please _ , _ ” _ mumbled over and over while Keith grinds up into him, Shiro’s cock moving slick against James’s own. 

“C-come on, James,” Keith’s cheek is pressed into James’s shoulder, and he tightens his grip across his neck, holding tight enough that his nails dig little halfmoon marks into the skin there. 

It’s filthy, sticky, and hurts in the best way possible; James is falling to pieces, being cleaved open and held together with rough hands and gentle words. He realizes then, as he comes with a hoarse cry that  _ this _ is all he’s ever needed. 

The way that he spills into Shiro’s hand, and Shiro pulls him closer so that James can muffle the sounds he makes into his neck is almost impossibly sweet. The movement against his body pauses just long enough that he can almost, just barely start to catch his breath when Keith’s hand falls from his neck.

It’s short lived though, and when Keith begins to move against him again James’s head spins from the feeling of Keith rolling his hips just as much as it does from the sudden flow of oxygen in his lungs. It is almost too much, and he’s overstimulated, nerves sparking with each little hitch of breath. 

Anything becomes everything for a beat, and James nearly forgets to breathe when Keith comes, hand pressed into his sternum, “so,  _ ah _ , so fucking good for me, baby,” whispered into his skin. It takes only a moment for Shiro to follow suit, incomprehensible murmurings falling from his lips before he slumps forward to mouth weakly at James’s collarbone. 

They stay pressed together, a sweaty mass of tangled limbs and soft noises for a while, coming down with their arms wrapped around one another. Keith finally prods at James to move, and the pull of Keith sliding out of him is enough to force a hiss out from between his teeth. 

“Where’re you going?” James asks, looking over his shoulder when Keith climbs out of the bed. 

Keith offers him a smile, and something about it tugs at his heartstrings, “I’ll be back, hang on,” he says, before disappearing into the bathroom. 

“James,” Shiro says, and James turns to face him. Shiro’s brows are furrowed, thoughtful, and he leans forward to press a little kiss to James’s mouth, “you know we love you, right? Both of us.” 

“Yeah,” he confirms, head bobbing in a slow nod, “I know.”

“Don’t ever doubt it, okay?”

Keith returns with a pair of warm, wet washcloths, and hands one to Shiro, before settling alongside James to drag the other across his skin. James bites back the little sighs that threaten to spill out when Keith brushes over the parts of his body that still burn, sensitive to the touch where bruises are starting to blossom.

A mindless giggle escapes him at the way something warm drips down the back of his leg when Keith nudges his thighs apart, running the cloth up to catch it before it travels too far, “I forgot about that,” James laughs. 

Keith hums, amusement flickering across his face and locks eyes with Shiro who cocks an eyebrow at him in response. “You were beautiful tonight,” Keith keeps sweeping the cloth across James until it’s cold, and little trails of goosebumps appear behind it, “there’s nothing wrong with being vulnerable, babe.”

“I know,” James’s eyes start to flutter close, his blinking growing slow under Keith’s gentle touch, his words beginning to slur with exhaustion, “I know that now.”

Keith urges him to lay down, tossing the damp cloth aside to pull the bedcovers up and over the three of them. The warmth of the two bodies pressed against him, and the soft touch of the blankets lull him to the edge of sleep before Keith speaks again, “Shiro and I can take care of you, James.” 

James doesn’t answer; he curls into Shiro’s touch, nuzzling his nose into the hollow of his throat, and hitching a leg up onto his hip, while Keith wraps an arm around his stomach, lips pressed to the top of James’s spine. 

This feels like coming home, somehow; his heart and body ache, yes, but he feels whole, safe,  _ loved _ at last. 

**Author's Note:**

> mentioned: choking/breathplay, unprotected sex, frottage, spanking, lots of dirty talk, fingers shoved down someone's throat (what does that qualify as ?? more choking? idk,) promising to take care of one another??? FEELINGS??? BIG WARNING FOR FEELINGS!!!!!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> hi i'm audrey and i've never written smut before but uhhh i think i am nice and i like making friends so come say hi on [tumblr](http://patienceyieldslove.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/sheithinlove) sometime !


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